Overwatch One Shots

Tinted Red - Widowmaker

(Not a ship fic, just a fanfiction I decided to write.) 

"I thought it might be blue." Amelie muttered, before shrugging a little, not really caring at this point. She sighed and lay back, squeezing her eyes shut as she continued. The water surrounded her as she lay in it, but had since gone cold. Not as cold as her skin felt since the manipulation, but still cold. 

Being back at Overwatch didn't feel right. Every time she looked at Ana, noticed the eye patch, she felt ashamed, disgusted with herself. Of course she would rather be here than still in the clutches of Talon, but perhaps it would be better for her to be in neither place. Amelie felt bad. She took up a lot of Angela's time, seen as Angela asked a lot of questions about what they did to her, how she felt, and the like, but Amelie felt as though Angela should probably be spending her time with other, more important patients than herself. Amelie felt as though she didn't deserve any of the care and attention she was getting. She had hurt people, even hurt people she cared about. She could barely look at herself in the mirror any more. And the worse thing about the whole situation was the fact that she didn't even feel that bad or upset about any of it. She couldn't feel. She couldn't smile and yet she'd rather be able to cry. How can one mourn the loss of their husband properly if they can't even muster an inch of sadness within their being, let alone form any tears. She wanted to be able to feel again, even if all she could feel was that deep, consuming sadness and nothing else. She just wanted to feel as though she was human again. 

Even as she lay here, in the water, she couldn't really feel the acts she was doing unto herself. There was no more pain than one might feel during an injection, and something about this wasn't right. 
"Why is it that the only pain I can inflict is on other people? I deserve it myself." She muttered, not really knowing why she was bothering to talk to herself. Perhaps it was because she felt so alone in her situation since Talon had taken her, or perhaps it was the creeping in unconsciousness that was driving her to craziness in the moments before the blackness consumed her vision. Even now, when she should've been concerned about things much greater, she still wondered why it wasn't blue. She had seen the liquid they had pumped into her, litre after litre, and it had been so blue in colour you might have mistaken it for the sky, but she was surprised to find that the thick liquid that was swirling it's way into the murky water of the bath and mixing in was red and not blue. At least that part of her still seemed human even if the rest of her didn't. 

She wondered, as she lay there, what time it was. She was sure she'd been in here at least half an hour, for the water had turned cold with time. She wondered if they were still training, or if they'd finished and gone for dinner without her. She didn't mind; soon enough they'd be doing everything without her. She tilted her head backwards, looking up towards the tiles of the ceiling. She let out a sigh as she used her gaze to trace the lines inbetween each tile, finding it hard to keep her concentration at this point and strange pink and red lines began to swirl across the tiles - a figment of her own imagination, of her deteriorating state, yet seemed so real to her as she watched the colours swirl and dance. A slight smile formed across her face, a small laugh even escaping her as she watched. She was too close to the unconsciousness now to realise it herself, but she was entering her final moments before everything would just go black. So focused on the colours, she didn't notice the blurring of her vision, but I don't think she would've cared even if she had of noticed. This had been her idea, what she'd wanted. 

The only thing that drew her attention away from these swirling lines of bright neon colour was the sound of a knocking on her door and then the sound of it creaking open. 
"Amelie?" There came a call, female sounding, but Amelie couldn't seem to put a name to the voice which should've been oh so familiar to her. She heard footsteps approaching the bathroom door, which she looked over at. She could barely make out the shape of the door handle to the bathroom door at this point through the blur that masked her vision. 
"Are you in the bath, Amelie?" The voice was soft as the person knocked on the door gently, "Food's ready downstairs... and you've been gone a while, so I wanted to make sure you were okay." She added. Amelie opened and closed her mouth, looking much like a fish out of water, gasping for air, as she tried to form words to respond, but couldn't bring herself to say anything. She had to force her eyes to stay open, and found herself blinking over and over again in her struggle. The door opened slowly, and the person, Angela, peered in. When she saw the state Amelie was in, she flung the door open and stared for a moment with wide eyes. The last thing Amelie heard before falling into unconsciousness was Angela yelling, "Gabe! Jack! I need help!" out of the door, and after that, Amelie didn't much know what was happening. 

"She'll live. Give her another." 
Amelie's eyes blinked open and she found herself tied to a chair, those horrific tubes sticking into her. She lifted her head up and looked around, struggling to break free. She couldn't see anything around her but darkness, the tubes trailing off into somewhere. She screamed as she heard the whirring of a machine starting up and then saw this substance begin to flow down the tubes and into her skin. She screamed and sobbed, tossing and turning as much as she could in the chair, trying to get away, make it stop. 
"Help!" She screamed, the screams hurting her throat. Tears rolled down her cheeks and dripped off her face in her panic, and it was mere moments later that everything fell back to pure darkness. There was nothing yet again. 

The next time her eyes opened again, she found herself lay down. She jolted upright, looking around, surveying the darkness. She noticed the body lay in the bed beside her and she frowned,  reaching over and cautiously pulling down the covers a little so she could see the face of the person beside her. Gerard. There he was, just lay there, sleeping peacefully. She smiled slightly, a content sigh leaving her as she sat there, looking at him. This moment of happiness was interrupted by the urges - the same urges she'd felt before - that pushed her to do things she didn't want to. She turned, hands reaching under her own pillow to reach for the knife. The handle felt all too familiar as it sat in her hand, and she shook her head. 
"Please no..." She mumbled as she lifted the knife in the air, tears beginning to fall. 
"I'm sorry, oh god..." She muttered as she watched as she brought the tip of the knife closer to Gerard's exposed neck, "I'm so so sorry... I don't want to .... oh god..." She muttered, managing a moment of hesitation, before the urges made her dive the blade straight into his throat. Once again, the blackness consumed her. 

The next time she awoke, unsure of whether this was yet another painful memory, her own personal hell, or some horrific dream, she sat bolt upright, screaming, arms thrashing out, attacking the air. She could barely see through the bright light and she only came to a stop when someone grabbed her arms, stilling them. 
"Hey, hey, shush... it's okay." She knew that voice, and after a moment of adjusting to the light, she could see the face it belonged to. 
"Angela...?" She muttered, frowning, threating to begin crying again. All she could do was grab her friend in a hug, squeezing her eyes shut and hoping, just hoping, that after reliving those horrific memories, that this was the real world and not some fantasy that would be ripped from her yet again.